


through and through

by miyuseway



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: ""character study"" tsukishima is a damp paper towel for 7k words, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Canon Compliant, Character Study, F/M, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Soulmates, also sleuthing other people's thoughts but when it comes to your own (throws self off cliff)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26689279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miyuseway/pseuds/miyuseway
Summary: Tsukishima is sixteen years old, and he knows better. He knows that people lie. He knows that innate talent matters more than effort. He knows that volleyball is just a sport.And most of all, he knows that soulmates do not matter.-Tsukishima finds out that he actually knows a lot less than he thinks he does, and that there's always a part of you that wants to change for the better.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Michimiya Yui/Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 3
Kudos: 80





	through and through

Tsukishima’s mother teaches him about soulmates during his birthday.

He is eight years old, and his attention span has, regrettably, not developed yet; as his mother begins her speech, he stares out the window of their dining room, thinking of gifts and cake and the daunting idea that he still has to attend the nightmare that is primary school the next year.

He is brought back to reality when someone taps him lightly on the shoulder, and he turns back to his older brother trying not to laugh at him, as well as his mother’s exasperated stare. 

“As I was saying, _Kei_.” His mother pauses, and reaches over the table to poke him square in the forehead. When he recoils back in surprise, she laughs, and continues, “Fundamentally, the rules for soulmates everywhere are always the same. _Anything you write on your skin will appear on your soulmate’s skin._ It’s very easy to remember, right? But in practice… everyone has a different experience with it. After all, there are so many variables, and there are so many ways that these bonds can form. Don’t expect your story to be the same as someone else’s.”

“Whether you find your soulmate now, or later,” she says, “Don’t be afraid of them, okay? Let yourself have these feelings. And, well… if you want, you can start speaking to your new classmates about this too. It’s a nice topic!”

Akiteru asks, “Are you just using this to coerce Kei into making more friends, Ma?” 

Their mother hums. “Oh? You don’t want to go to volleyball practice tomorrow? I never thought I would see the day, but if you insist, my _darling_ son--”

“Wait, wait, wait--”

Tsukishima finds himself tuning out for the rest of this conversation (a long time ago, his mom said something similar, and she had to reassure him that it was a joke after he started crying for his brother). But for the first time, he thinks about his soulmate--like, _really_ thinks about them--and he decides that he wants to talk to them, too. It’s not really because he likes them, he’s just curious.

Later that night, Tsukishima rummages through his newly bought school supplies until he finally finds a marker. The color appears on paper as a dull, faded orange, and although it might have trouble showing up on his skin, it will have to do for now. He uncaps the marker, and holds out his left arm. 

Tsukishima writes, _Hi. How are you?_

He waits. He doesn’t really know what he is expecting, but he waits.

Nobody answers. 

Over the course of the next year, Tsukishima writes these same four words on his skin again and again. 

He tries to use different colors, ones that would stand out more than the marker he used the first time. He forces himself to write slowly and clearly, just to make sure that his handwriting is legible. And each time, he checks everywhere after he’s done; he looks at the back of his hand, the inner part of his wrist, the crook of his elbow. Each time, he doesn’t find anything.

By the time Tsukishima turns nine, he is frustrated enough to not write to his soulmate again. 

-

(Somewhere along the way, before his ninth birthday, he starts talking to one of his classmates. His name is Yamaguchi, and he has soft eyes, dark brown hair, and this weird laugh that always seems to dissolve into a fit of giggles and a loud snort. Some other people at school make fun of his freckles, but Tsukishima doesn’t understand what the big deal is about them. They’re just… a part of his face. Is it really something to get so worked up about? 

One day, as he’s walking to school on a cold November morning, Tsukishima catches Yamaguchi standing at the intersection. He’s staring at his own forearms; there’s a hopeful look on his face, but it is restrained, like he’s trying not to set himself up to be disappointed.

The moment passes. Yamaguchi starts to deflate, the already shaky light in his eyes going dim. For some reason, the sight is so _horrible_ and _upsetting_ that Tsukishima coughs into his arm to get his attention. 

_His face gets all pinched and wrinkly when he frowns,_ Tsukishima’s mind supplies. _That’s why you want to distract him. It’s weird to look at!_

...It’s enough of an explanation for an eight year old with a barely developed sense of morality.

Yamaguchi looks up at Tsukishima, surprised. Then, he shakes his head, like he can tell that a small part of Tsukishima is still curious, even if he’s trying to act like he’s not.

“I--I don’t think I have one,” Yamaguchi says quietly. It’s a short, vague explanation. But it’s enough to hear the insecurity in his voice, to hear the way that his voice wavers like he thinks that there’s something _wrong_ with him. 

Tsukishima tries to say something, _anything_ , but Yamaguchi quickly shifts the conversation to talk about homework. His eyes are still downcast, and the smile on his face is stilted and awkward. 

In his head, he decides that he will look after Yamaguchi--out of the kindness of his heart, obviously.)

-

Seven years later, Tsukishima finds himself in Karasuno High School. He is sixteen years old, and he knows better. He knows that people lie. He knows that innate talent matters more than effort. He knows that volleyball is just a sport. And most of all, he knows that soulmates do not matter. 

His mother calls him cynical when they debate on this issue, but it’s a logical conclusion. While it is true that there are some people that have soulmates who reciprocate their feelings, that can all be chalked up to them being lucky. For every happy marriage, there are dozens of people who have an estranged relationship with their soulmate for various reasons. The entire phenomenon is solely based on how society romanticizes the concept. In the end, there’s nothing special about it, really, and it’s why he doesn’t care that his soulmate never wrote back to him that one year--that is, if they even exist at all in the first place.

(Another part of his reasoning--and this is a piece of evidence that he keeps to himself, that he hasn’t brought up even when he argues with his mother about it--is that Yamaguchi didn’t have a soulmate. Tsukishima could understand the world giving _him_ the short end of the stick, but Yamaguchi is a good person in a way that Tsukishima isn’t. So, that’s how he knows it isn’t fair. It just isn’t.)

He keeps these stances on life close to his heart, like they are ancient laws of the universe, even as he enters Karasuno’s gymnasium for practice. 

Now, joining the club seems contradictory, but he swears that he doesn’t care about volleyball. He _doesn’t_ care, and he _doesn’t_ want to put in any more effort in the club than he is required to. Still, it looks nice to colleges and employers, because it shows that he can “make commitments” and “manage his time”. So he will take a position in the club and do the bare minimum for now, until someone better comes along; then, he will sit back, and watch them shine bolder and brighter than he ever could. 

This is why he refuses to actually participate in the current conversation, which is hassling the third years--namely, Daichi, Suga, and Michimiya--because they’re each other’s soulmates.

“What? You have _two_?!” Hinata says, after he notices that they have the same hastily written reminders on their arms--as if the fact that Michimiya always visits them before practice or the fact that Daichi and Suga wait for her after classes isn’t enough. Hinata’s jaw looks like it’s going to drop straight to the floor, as if he’s made some sort of great, scientific breakthrough. Tsukishima is not strong enough to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. 

Daichi scratches the back of his head and nods.

“We all knew that there were three of us since we were in middle school,” he explains, brief and concise. “But we only found each other during the end of our first semester in Karasuno.”

“We would have met sooner,” Michimiya mutters, picking at the sleeves of her blazer, “If one of us was bright enough to write about what high school we were going to. But, um, well--nope! Didn’t even think to try that at all. We only figured it out when we realized that we were going to practice at around the same time… and our homework was toosimilar… and we were friends with the _same people_...” 

The three of them start laughing with each other like this is some inside joke that they’ve shared for the longest time. Tsukishima forces himself to pretend like he’s paying attention--to be respectful, or something.

Suga sighs. “We can’t change the past, I guess.” He pauses, before leaning in closer to Michimiya and Daichi. There’s a smile on his lips and a certain warmth in his voice when he says, “... But I’m glad that we found each other eventually!”

Out of the corner of Tsukishima’s eye, he sees Nishinoya glance at the three of them, and he groans, “ _Captain_ , can’t you save all this sappy stuff until after practice is over? Look, you’re scaring the kids!” 

Hinata is looking away sheepishly, too, like even he has enough tact to know that he’s intruding. Nishinoya gestures to Kageyama in particular, who looks like he’s going to make a wild dash to the court, regardless of if this conversation is over or not. Tsukishima snickers at how dumb he looks. Kageyama glares at him. Yamaguchi starts laughing too, in the way that he always does, and the sound of it is enough to keep him engaged in the conversation.

Daichi and Michimiya give everyone in the room a flustered apology, while Suga just laughs. The upperclassmen answer a few other questions about their time at Karasuno--most of the questions are asked by Hinata, because of course they are--before Michimiya tells them that she has to go back to her team soon. Before she leaves, she squeezes both of their hands tightly. 

More words go unspoken between the three of them, and Tsukishima has to wonder how they seem to be so in-tune with each other. It’s too personal to watch a group of people who apparently know each other so well that they don’t even have to explicitly say that they care for each other. It’s too personal to watch the way that they fit together and have formed a sort of calm unity, the kind that shows they’ve watched each other fall, but they’ve also pushed each other to get back up and soar to greater heights.

For a brief moment, he wonders if it’s because they’ve just known each other for so long; that doesn’t make sense, though, because they don’t seem to act like this with Tanaka, Nishinoya, or any other second or third year that Tsukishima has seen them talk to. 

So the other, _nicer_ conclusion is that they act like this because they’re _soulmates_ , and they’ve made something _meaningful_ out of that bond that they supposedly share with each other. Because they’re _soulmates_.

If Tsukishima barely tries to block anything during practice today, nobody says anything.

After practice, Suga and Tsukishima are the last ones left in the gym. Everyone else is done with their jobs, and are already heading home. Meanwhile, both of them are hurrying to take down the court; he doesn’t know if Suga’s soulmates are waiting for him, but he does know that Yamaguchi is most likely waiting so they can walk home together, like they always do, and Tsukishima would rather not keep his friend here for longer than he has to.

“I guess you’re lucky,” Tsukishima says as he takes down his side of the net. The buzzing quiet of the room is finally getting to him. “The chances of having two soulmates are slim, aren’t they?” _And the chances that a soulmate actually cares for you is even smaller._ But he is being polite and conversational with his senior, who doesn’t need to know his real stance on the matter because they are not friends, and they are barely connected by being in the same club. So, he keeps the thought to himself. “Seems like it might have taken a while to figure that all out.”

He thinks that his inflection is normal. However, Suga doesn’t answer for a beat too long, and Tsukishima looks up to find that he’s staring at him. 

Everyone is amazed by Kageyama’s honed instincts and his ability to analyze movement in a matter of seconds--but in this moment, Tsukishima is more stifled by Suga, who looks like he picked up so much just from Tsukishima saying two clipped sentences. Suga, who looks like he’s reading him like an open book.

“I suppose it’s a strange topic, but you don’t have to be so analytical about it,” Suga finally says. He’s being so careful about this, conversing with Tsukishima like he doesn’t really know how the world works. It makes Tsukishima want to pretend like he didn’t initiate this conversation in the first place. “It’s just how it is for us, you know? I think I would have felt like something was missing, if I only had one soulmate.” “And there were some issues at the beginning, yes,” he continues, “But I… we know each other better, now. We’ve spent enough time for me to know that I would have always liked them.”

“You’re already dating them, so it’s easy for you to say something like that, isn’t it?” He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. _Too blunt, too much_. Tsukishima turns back to the net so he doesn’t have to look at the way Suga’s facial expression is bound to change. 

He hears Suga’s footsteps draw closer to him, and Tsukishima braces himself for a lecture. But instead of snapping back with any actual venom, Suga punches his shoulder, the way that he does with everyone else, and says, “... Having a soulmate--or soulmates--is a unique experience for everyone. It’s not always easy to have to learn how to create these ties. But I personally think it’s worth it to… to open yourself up to someone who could love you in a way that nobody else can.”

“So, just… take your time. You’ll figure it out one day. You don’t like to say it, but you really do have a good head on your shoulders, you know?”

The conversation ends there. Suga moves back to the other side of the court.

 _There’s nothing for me to figure out,_ Tsukishima thinks bitterly. _I already know everything that I need to know._

-

(When Tsukishima finally walks out of the gymnasium, Yamaguchi is still standing at the front, scrolling through his phone. 

Before he even says a word, Yamaguchi tosses a can of soda in his general direction. He catches it, and checks the brand. He shouldn’t be surprised that Yamaguchi knows his favorite type of drink, especially when they’ve been friends for so long, but the knowledge that he is known still blindsides him just a bit. 

“I bought it from the vending machine a couple minutes ago,” Yamaguchi explains. Tsukishima raises his eyebrows at him, and he shrugs. “I… just thought you would like it?”

So someone had noticed that he was acting strange today, after all. At least it was Yamaguchi and not someone else. Tsukishima nods at him. _Thanks._

He smiles back. 

The can feels cold against Tsukishima’s aching hands.)

-

Days later, Coach Takeda tells the group that they’re going to have a practice match against Nekoma. He also introduces them to their new coach--or maybe a better way of saying it is that he _reintroduces_ them to their new coach, because this man also runs the store where Hinata and Kageyama have fought over buying the last meat bun countless times. In any case, he is apparently Coach Ukai’s grandson. The way that everyone tries to fumble around and pretend like they haven’t caused trouble at his store would be amusing, if not for the fact that Hinata tries to drag him into the argument like he’s anything but a mere bystander in their petty fights.

Besides that, though--they spend hours practicing for the match. Some of them spend countless more. Which is fine. Tsukishima doesn’t have a right to tell them what to do with their lives. If they want to put effort in, then that’s their decision. They will stay after school, tirelessly practicing their serves and blocks and sets--while Tsukishima will go home, and go to sleep. 

He is aware that the light he shines is dim, in comparison to everyone else on the team. It always will be. But it’s enough that he can be seen, even for that brief moment. He doesn’t have to do anything else, not when his best isn’t ever going to be enough. Therefore,when they lose the practice match, he’s not disappointed. It just feels like an inevitability, that there are teams that are better than them.

Afterwards, his teammates spend time talking to their opponents. Nekoma’s libero is engaged in a conversation with Nishinoya, and Hinata talks excitedly with the middle blocker that intercepted his quick attack thirty minutes ago. Tsukishima nods at them in acknowledgement, and thanks the coach. He thinks that’s probably enough, isn’t it? 

He’s walking towards the bus when Kuroo, Nekoma’s captain, intercepts his path. Kuroo takes a drink from his water bottle, trying to act all cool and casual. Tsukishima stiffens. Do not engage. Do not enga--

“Hey,” he says.

“Why are you talking to me,” Tsukishima replies, still staring at the bus. 

He grins. “You’re really blunt, aren’t you?”

“... Sorry. Thank you for letting us play against your team.” The window seats have never felt so close, yet so far. “Did you need something from me?”

“Well, it _just_ crossed my mind to ask,” he begins in a way that makes Tsukishima think that he’s actually been wanting to ask this for a while, “But that other middle blocker on your team… the small one, the one that can jump really high. Does he have a soulmate, or…?”

Tsukishima frowns, finally focusing on the conversation. “Hinata…? Why are you asking me about him? Are you--” He scrunches his nose, because God forbid this is true of anyone-- “--interested in him or something?”

Kuroo waves his hands around. “No, no! But I think our setter is. Kenma.”

“... Okay.” Sucks for him, if that’s true. “... I’ve never really bothered to ask Hinata about his soulmate, no.”

Kuroo raises his eyebrows. Then he sighs in an annoying, theatrical manner. “You’re not even trying to pretend to be a team player, huh?”

Logically, Tsukishima knows that Kuroo is just trying to rile him up; his tone is light but pushy, in the same way that he did when he compared Tsukishima to Hinata earlier. And still, it’s like this guy is always closer to the truth than he thinks he is, because the simple statement strikes at Tsukishima’s chest and lodges itself deep within his bones, heavy and unrelenting. And he hates that it’s affecting him, because now it feels like the world is trying to get him to feel bad for keeping things at a distance, for sticking to the rules that he’s set for himself, as if it doesn’t already know that he’s just making sure that he doesn’t get disappointed again. 

Kuroo has stopped playing around by now, and is openly looking at him. His stare is slightly different from Suga’s--it’s sharper at the edges, more cat-like. At the same time, though, Kuroo is quiet in a way that reassures Tsukishima that he won’t be the person that’s going to call him out for his behavior. And it is a nice sentiment, sure, but having someone look so obviously like they’re trying to pick apart your thoughts is unnerving all the same.

Tsukishima clears his throat. If Kuroo will not bring it up, then neither will he. His mind is clearer, though, and now he remembers what Hinata told them when he saw Nekoma’s setter out on the streets, days before the match. “Look, Hinata told us that he thinks Kenma has a soulmate already, and it didn’t seem like--”

“Oh, right. That’s just me, so don’t worry about it.”

“... What?”

“Kenma and I are platonic soulmates,” Kuroo explains.

Tsukishima would have been more than happy to accept that as an explanation. Platonic soulmates are also considered to be very common, after all, even if he doesn’t agree with the soulmate concept as a whole. Not everyone is interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with someone else. 

However, there is a slight waver in Kuroo’s tone when he defines his friendship with Kenma; Kuroo himself probably doesn’t realize that it’s there, not with the way he’s acting, because of course he’s the type of person who is scarily in-tune with the actions of everyone on his volleyball team except his own. 

Whatever. If people could develop easy strategies for how to deal with their feelings the same way that they can develop strategies for how to block a volleyball, then the world would probably be much simpler than it is now. Is it still exasperating? Yes. But it’s not his fault.

Against his better judgment, Tsukishima asks, “Are you sure about that?” 

He frowns. “Sorry, what are you trying to imply?”

“The way you said that was weird, is all.” He shrugs.

A sigh. “Look, I know that Kenma doesn’t really emote unless he wants to _._ But I can tell that he acts… differently about volleyball when he’s with your middle blocker, even if it was hard for us to see it at first. And, well--it was _surprising_ when he actually looked like he was excited for the match, but it wasn’t _bad_. He just doesn’t act like that with me or anyone else on the team, so I just thought that...” Kuroo trails off. “You know. But I’m not jealous about it.”

“I didn’t say you were jealous, but okay.” It’s subtle, but he sees Kuroo’s posture stiffen out of the corner of his eye. He pushes his glasses up, filled with a sudden surge of terrible, terrible hubris. “You don’t have to seriously consider my opinion, since we barely know each other, but you sound upset. So you should talk to him about how you’re feeling, and you should tell him what you just told me, because this concerns him. Should be fine if you know each other so well, right?”

Kuroo pauses. After a moment, his facial expression changes into something more contemplative. It’s similar to the calculated glances that he directed towards their team when they first pulled off their quick attack, and the sharp look he just directed towards Tsukishima two minutes ago. At the same time, though, it’s a little more cautious. It’s a little more wary. 

And Tsukishima is right--he doesn’t know him, not really, but he has a feeling that it’s the first time that Kuroo has consciously let his mind wander in a different direction.

Still, even he can tell that it finally clicks when Kuroo stops staring off into space and his eyes lock onto Kenma. Kenma, walking a step behind the other members of Nekoma, tapping away at his phone. He’s slouching in a way that makes him appear shorter than he already is, and it also makes strands of his hair obscure most of his face. It casts a dark shadow over his features, and Tsukishima can barely see the way that his eyebrows are furrowed deep in concentration. A moment later, Kenma’s entire expression becomes pinched and vaguely annoyed--his intense, focused frown turns into something more akin to irritation, and he sighs before jamming his phone in his pocket and taking out a _different_ gaming console.

By all means, it should not paint a very nice picture. Actually, it’s a little weird.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Kuroo finally says, his voice quiet but sure. He’s still looking at Kenma. He’s looking at him like he’s the only thing that matters. “I might be in love with him.”

That is _much_ more than he was implying in the first place, but okay! _Sure! Good for him!_

Tsukishima tries not to appear as if he’s taken aback, even though the fact that he’s pretty much giving advice for a stranger’s love life is starting to sink in for him. “Um… great. I don’t think I’m the one that needs to hear that, so...”

Kuroo laughs briefly, but his mood suddenly seems to dampen when he says, “I don’t know if he--”

“Well, you obviously know him better than I do. Do you really think he’d be upset to know about this?”

Kuroo thinks about it. “He’s not really the type, I--”

“So there you go. Go tell him. Or don’t. It’s your life, not mine.”

Tsukishima doesn’t think soulmates matter. Still, this was just frustrating to listen to. If this went on for longer, it would have affected Nekoma’s team, and that would have affected Karasuno, and that would eventually affect him. He is doing everyone a service by helping Kuroo out. He is doing this for his own benefit, and whatever happens between Kuroo and Kenma afterwards is their own personal problem. 

But Kuroo has to be an idiot if he thinks that someone that he’s apparently known for so long would hate him, because even if Kenma didn’t return his feelings, there’s no way that he’d cast him aside for something like this. He’s so sure of it, especially when they work together so well that it even shows up in the way that they play volleyball. In the practice match, the entirety of Nekoma’s volleyball team worked hard to keep themselves in sync, but Kuroo and Kenma had a certain instinct in the way they moved gracefully and lithely around each other. It’s the kind you only have when you’ve known someone for so long that this sense of familiarity seeps into your very being. 

They are calm, in the same way that Daichi, Suga, and Michimiya’s relationship felt--but it doesn’t feel too personal, to see the way that they set and toss to each other like it’s second nature. Maybe they aren’t _actively_ pushing each other to get better--Kenma honestly looks like he’d keel over before putting in another ounce of unnecessary effort--but then again, maybe that’s something that they never needed from each other in the first place. 

The point is that this is fine. He’s just stating the obvious, and all that.

“Yeah, okay... Thanks for calling me out,” Kuroo continues. His shit-eating grin is back, but now it’s softer around the edges, as if the last five minutes of conversation has made him completely reevaluate Tsukishima. It feels like an unspoken apology for the things he said earlier. “You pay way more attention than you say you do, you know.”

It’s fine. 

“Yeah, whatever,” Tsukishima replies, and he finally gets on the stupid bus.

-

(“I think you set them up, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi tells him on the walk home. They had parted ways with everyone else a while ago. Right now, it’s just the two of them on the streets, the pavement illuminated by the soft glow of the moon and the stars. 

And Tsukishima would have preferred to walk in comfortable silence, the way they always do, but Hinata had noticed him talking to Kuroo earlier, and the story of how he accidentally prompted the captain of Nekoma to have a _setter awakening--_ thank you, Tanaka, for creating this term--was forced out of him _._ Now, it just _has_ to be the main topic of conversation, even when they’re alone.

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“Stop, I didn’t--”

“Yes, you did--”

God! “Yamaguchi!” 

_”Tsukki!”_ he exclaims, and then he finally breaks and barks out that nice, familiar laugh of his, the one that dissolves into a fit of giggles and a loud snort. “Look, it’s--it’s nothing to be ashamed about! I think it was really cool of you to do that.”

At those words, he stops in the middle of the sidewalk. It takes a second, but Yamaguchi curiously looks back at him when he notices that he’s left his side. 

“How can you say that,” Tsukishima says. “Aren’t you… unhappy?”

There’s no need to elaborate, not when they both glance at Yamaguchi’s freckled but otherwise bare arms at same time. Yamaguchi laughs, quiet but nervous, like he knows that Tsukishima was thinking about it. Maybe he even knows that Tsukishima was worried about it when Hinata told him to elaborate in the first place. He always seems to know, at least.

Then Yamaguchi hums to himself, staring up at the moon. The light is... it’s _pretty_ on his face, and it somehow still brings out the softer shades of hazel in his eyes, and the lighter freckles scattered on his cheeks, even if moonlight doesn’t shine as brightly as sunlight does. “I don’t know. I--I shouldn’t be upset that other people are happy, even if I… you know.”

Yamaguchi pauses, and turns back to him. 

“Even if it hurts,” he says this quickly and easily, like it’s a common truth, “I still have you, don’t I?”

“... It was cool of you to do that,” he repeats, when Tsukishima doesn’t answer.

“Okay,” Tsukishima says, and as he catches up to Yamaguchi, walking shoulder-to-shoulder once more, he ignores the way that his heart hammers in his chest, warm and pleasant and steady.)

-

They lose the third round of Interhigh.

They lose to Aoba Johsai, and that’s all Tsukishima will say on the matter, because it’s a hard fact of life that there will always be people better than you.

“It was a long match,” the reporter on the local channel says. “But Seijoh won with a score of 31-to-33, with the help of their infamous ace-setter duo…”

_You knew this would happen,_ Tsukishima thinks to himself. _It’s always when people get their hopes up. That’s when things start falling down. See? See, isn’t it good that you were prepared?_

“--are all soulmates, after all! So even if they never let me do _anything_ fun, it’s not a surprise that I can pick up on anything they do!” Oikawa says. He’s still loud and boisterous on the screen, but the genuine tone in his voice sends Tsukishima off kilter.

He turns the television off. 

-

(They get ramen after the match. Everyone else cries at some point during the meal. Tsukishima doesn’t cry--he doesn’t even tear up. His head only aches with a certain numbness, with no satisfaction gained or lost from the fact that he was right about everything. 

At the table, Yamaguchi cries, his shoulders trembling and his eyes staring off to somewhere far, far away.

And Tsukishima is not good at comforting him. He never has been, not when he’s learned to lace his words with underhanded compliments and unapologetic statements. So Tsukishima does the only thing that his mind can really think of doing right now, and he takes Yamaguchi’s hand under the table. There’s nothing eloquent that he can say about the gesture, other than the fact it feels like he’s running on something instinctual and Yamaguchi’s hand feels warm in his.

Yamaguchi tenses up as he turns to face him, and he hates the way that his eyes are searching his face. He hates it because Yamaguchi actually knows how he feels about volleyball; it’d be impossible if he didn’t, not when he’s been around for _so long_. So Tsukishima can read the unspoken question in his stare, the one that’s asking-- _do you dislike me, too, for caring so much about this team now?_

Tsukishima really, really doesn’t know what the hell this could possibly accomplish, but he squeezes Yamaguchi’s hand before he has the chance to falter. 

“Don’t be stupid,” he mutters, voice low enough so only he can hear. It’s a terrible answer but he hopes it is enough for now.

A moment passes--then Yamaguchi squeezes his hand back, letting out a shaky breath.)

-

The training camp in Tokyo is bearable.

This is objectively a lie, because it’s not very bearable, not when everyone is pushing themselves to their limits like that’s going to do anything for them in the future. And it is _certainly_ not very bearable when Tsukishima eventually finds himself doing the same too.

Going against his previous beliefs makes him feel horrible, in a way, because every once in a while he thinks he can feel something _good_ threatening to spill out from the recesses of his mind. And that is a horrible thing because he’s setting himself up for failure again. He knows it.

Still, he tries. He tries because maybe _some people_ are right when they say that pride is the only thing that should matter to him, and even if he doesn’t completely believe that, aren’t they right? Aren’t they right to think that he should act for himself for once, and not run on spite and regrets and the sanctity of _rules_ that are being slowly worn down each day that he spends here?

Despite everything, it’s nice that the coaches found a way to get this opportunity for them, even after losing the last tournament. Tsukishima tries to think of this fact instead of comparing Karasuno to Fukurodani and Nekoma too much.

But Fukurodani is formidable, and they’re strong and domineering in a way that draws your attention so much that you never want to let go of them. Nekoma’s team is as unified as they were during the practice matches, and their plays are still slow but methodical--even if there’s this new half-Russian player that has the energy of one of those inflatable tube men that are outside car dealerships. 

Whatever--they’re all doing fine, which is great, and Kuroo seems to be doing even better, because Tsukishima has caught him wrapping a lazy arm around Kenma’s shoulder a few times.

Kuroo tries to thank him for the help, with some of his gratitude coming in the form of gossip and facts about the other teams that Tsukishima would rather not know (also, he understands if he just had the files for his own team, but how the hell does Kuroo even know what _Konoha’s_ blood type information is?). The only information that Tsukishima retains is that, strangely enough, Fukurodani’s captain and vice captain are apparently soulmates, too. 

“They found out last summer,” Kuroo told Tsukishima a few hours after goading him into joining their weird gym team. “I won’t go into detail about it, but I think what Bokuto told me was--Akaashi was always receiving the messages that _he_ wrote, but Bokuto never got anything back from him. Not until recently, anyway.”

Tsukishima remembers frowning at that concept. “I’ve never heard of that happening before.”

“Hah--yeah, right? I honestly think they’re still figuring it out, so don’t mind them. It’s a whole thing. But they’re both good kids, you know, so I’m sure it’ll work out just fine.” 

It was a nice sentiment until Kuroo grinned--like the bastard he is--and said, “Not that you shouldn’t tease them for it, though. There was this one time where I got Bokuto to run directly into a lamp post after I said--”

Anyway.

Even after that ‘warning’--God, he hates Kuroo so much--Tsukishima doesn’t notice anything during their practices together. Maybe it’s because he’s too tired to catch any changes, or maybe he’s just too caught up in his own head. Whatever the reason is, Tsukishima just thinks that they’re acting the way that he expects them to. Bokuto acts like he’s larger-than-life, and whenever it’s too much or too little, Akaashi reins him back in, every time.

It’s not until their final day at the training camp that he actually sees it, when their coaches have rewarded them with a break in the form of some barbeque picnic.

Tsukishima walks toward the people that he’s been practicing with during the night, a glass of water in one hand and a meat skewer on a plate in the other. Hinata and Kuroo sit across from Bokuto and Akaashi at the table, and they appear to be engaged in a deep, meaningful conversation that will probably end in Kuroo making terrible height-related jokes. 

The issue is that Tsukishima’s line of sight is directly aimed at Akaashi and Bokuto’s backs. He sees the way that Bokuto’s hand slowly inches towards Akaashi’s hand in the grass, uncharacteristically hesitant. He stops just short of touching him, and it’s only when Akaashi reaches out to him first, their pinkies brushing against each other, that he finally interlaces their fingers together and bridges the gap.

Nothing changes in their demeanor otherwise--Hinata and Kuroo certainly don’t notice it. They keep speaking to everyone else the way that they always have been, and the only identifying differences are the way that the uplifting, excitable tone of Bokuto’s voice grows tenfold whenever he says Akaashi’s name, and the way that Akaashi seems to lean into Bokuto like he’s just found his way back home. 

It’s another vulnerable moment that he shouldn’t have been privy to. But he can tell that they both care about each other, even if whatever they’ve been going through is as difficult to navigate as Kuroo had said it was.

 _It’s nice,_ his mind supplies, as he settles back down into his spot with everyone else. _It’s nice that they’re happy._

He thinks of Michimiya, Suga, and Daichi. He thinks of Kuroo and Kenma. And now, he thinks of Bokuto and Akaashi. And he doesn’t believe in all soulmates--he doesn’t know if he ever can--but maybe he can believe in some people. 

The actual problem, though, is that he might be going through some sort of epiphany, because that’s the same thing he did with Yamaguchi, right? He held his hand, too, when they lost to Seijoh. 

That doesn’t inherently mean anything. Of course it doesn’t. People hold hands for various reasons. But then his mind wanders to that one night--that one where Yamaguchi had confronted him outside of the gymnasium, his frustration with him finally boiling over--and it wasn’t really something that he had the option of thinking about at the moment, but they were… close. 

That fact has been haunting him lately. He doesn’t know why he can’t get the image of Yamaguchi grabbing the collar of his shirt out of his head, or why he feels like just calling him _cool_ wasn’t enough, or why the feeling of his warm breath against his face still lingers like a ghost. 

He swears that if Yamaguchi pulled him in any closer then they would have--

Oh.

“Oh,” Tsukishima ends up saying out loud, because it’s a very shocking experience to realize that the biggest idiot in your life is actually yourself.

“Huh…? What’s up? Do you need me to start from the beginning again? Was I talking way too fast?!” Bokuto asks, leaning over the table. Akaashi gives him a concerned look, and Hinata waves a hand across his face. 

Kuroo, however, raises his eyebrows and glances around, trying to observe the situation--and maybe it would have been fine if Tsukishima’s stupid, traitorous eyes didn’t decide to flicker over to Yamaguchi, who is standing in front of the grill with Yachi and is none the wiser to the emotional turmoil that Tsukishima is going through. 

Tsukishima can pinpoint the _exact_ moment that Kuroo’s synapses fire, because he tries to suppress the worst cackle ever. He fails. Everyone in a five-foot radius turns to them. Tsukishima wants to throttle him. 

Instead, though, he shakes his head and motions for Bokuto to continue, and he pretends like he does not like his best friend.

\--

(“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says at some point during the ride back home. “Are you, um… okay… ?”

“I guess so,” Tsukishima gives him a half-truth, because confessing to your friend on a bus with your volleyball team in it is a horrible idea, no matter what Kuroo is currently telling him in private messages. He turns his phone off and shrugs. “I’m just--tired, or whatever.”

He’s worried, for a moment, that Yamaguchi is going to push it, but he only yawns in response. “Okay. I think I’m going to go back to sleep.”

“Alright.”

“Can you wake me up if we hit a rest stop?” He scoots in closer from his seat. 

Tsukishima tries not to look like he’s holding his breath. “Just shut up and go to sleep already.”

“Thank you,” Yamaguchi tells him, not even flinching, and then he leans against Tsukishima’s shoulder and closes his eyes. Tsukishima gives himself a solid few seconds to think about how pretty Yamaguchi’s freckles are when he can see them upclose, and then he spends the rest of the ride staring out the window in silence.)

\--

They’re going to Nationals.

_They won against Shiratorizawa_ , and they’re _going to Nationals_.

His heart is beating hard and fast, so fast that it’s like liquid fire is running through his veins. Everything is burning bright and hot and it’s--it’s a lot, but for once, it’s not _unwelcome_.

The team huddles together, holding each other like there’s no tomorrow, and this time Tsukishima has no trouble basking in the glow of victory with them, because it’s their win. They did this. 

Maybe later, he’ll regret the loud laughs that push their way out of him. Maybe later, he’ll regret the way that he can feel himself falling back into that passionate mindset that everyone else seems to have about the sport, the one that he so desperately wanted to avoid. Even now he can still feel the way that his old, unspoken rules are trying to smother him until there’s nothing left anymore but a dimness where the light used to be.

But he thinks that he gets it now. It doesn’t matter if the moon can never shine as strong as the sun, the stars, or even some shitty streetlamp located near the Miyagi prefecture. It’s soft and welcoming against the stark darkness of the night, and even if that’s the best that it can do, everyone welcomes it, because there’s still a place in the sky for the moon no matter what happens.

The crowd calls their names and for once, he takes it all in. 

It feels bright.

\--

(“Do you remember,” Tsukishima begins, later, when he’s studying with Yamaguchi at his house. Unfortunately, testing is still a part of school that exists, even if you’re part of a volleyball team that’s going to Nationals. “Do you remember what I told you about Fukurodani’s captain and vice-captain?”

Yamaguchi blinks at him, closing his textbook. “Yes…?”

“I was thinking--” 

He hums. “There’s a joke to be made there, you know--”

Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “Maybe if I was Kageyama saying that, sure--”

“Hm, that’s true--”

“ _I’m_ \--okay, shut up. Anyway,” he shrugs, all nonchalant, like he isn’t tapping his foot hard and fast against the floor. “I stopped writing to my soulmate a long time ago, you know.”

“So maybe we should check again, because we,” Tsukishima clears his throat and ignores the sudden dryness of his lips, “We might have gone through the same issue with, with people not being able to see soulmate writing. Or whatever.”

At its core, it’s a confession. What else would someone call it, when you openly admit that you think someone else is your soulmate?

“I mean you could...” Yamaguchi looks away, but Tsukishima can see the flush of red that’s creeping up his cheeks. “You could check again, I don’t mind.”

Tsukishima nods. “Okay.” 

He swears he’s going to do it. He makes the motion of getting up, and finding a marker. But then the adrenaline wears off, just a little, and it’s hard not to fall back into rational and logical thought, because--this is wishful thinking, isn’t it? He didn’t even think Yamaguchi would want to address this again. What the hell is he doing, thinking that there must have been an issue here, when the truth is that they both were very unlucky in this part of life and--

“Just so you know, I don’t care if nothing shows up,” Yamaguchi says, snapping Tsukishima back into reality. “I mean, that’s nice if something does--but I don’t need to see writing on my arm to know that I--” 

He pauses, and finally turns to him, saying with an air of finality, “I don’t need to see writing on my arm to know that I like you, so!”

Tsukishima looks at his face, determination shining through his unwavering stare and the way that he places a hand on his arm, and Tsukishima knows that he can’t be lying, not when it feels like he’s saying, _please believe me, please believe me_.

Yamaguchi clears his throat. “But, well--that’s my own opinion, so, you don’t have to do it if you’ve changed your mind--”

Tsukishima shakes his head, and for the first time in a very long time, he is sure of himself when he tells him, “No, it’s fine. I want to.”

Yamaguchi blinks up at him. Then he smiles, disbelieving. “Okay, then. Go ahead.”

Tsukishima thinks about it for a few moments. Then, he uncaps one of the markers lying at the edge of his desk, and he writes on his forearm--

_Hi. How are you?_

He takes a deep breath, looks over to Yamaguchi, and he hopes.)

**Author's Note:**

> thank you starsun for being my beta for the first half of this fic - i love you dearly! <3
> 
> i wish this was less rushed than it is but i wanted to get this up by tsukishima's birthday, so (hands you this hot mess)... in any case, there's so much that you can say about him that i literally think that anyone who has watched the show can make a full dissertation on his emotional wellbeing if they tried hard enough. the concept of soulmates also wasn't totally necessary for this fic, but i thought it was another nice way to show how he keeps setting all these limits for himself even when he sees other people happy because he has a chronic aversion to the risk of disappointment.
> 
> IN ANY CASE i hope i did him at least some justice - and i hope you enjoyed reading! !


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